Two Warriors
by EtchedInDiamond
Summary: brief oneshot of a Spartan and a Jedi in the Aszod shipyards. No sequel.I own nothing...


**1300 hours, August 30, 2552, (Military Calendar) \ Epsilon Eridani System, Reach, Aszod ship breaking yards**

SPARTAN-B312, a.k.a Noble 6, lifted his head to the dark, cloud-ridden sky. The sound of thunder pealed overhead and the flash of lightning revealed the silhouette of a Covenant cruiser for a microsecond. A mixture of purple and red muddled the horizon, telling the all-too familiar tale of the Covenant's trademark punishment.

The shipyards were abandoned, all signs of human resistance vanished. Noble 6 stepped down a small incline bordered by chain-link fences. The nerve-wracked Spartan sensed a presence behind him, and he whirled, assault rifle up.

Jedi Master Halaren Zilon was walking towards him, melancholy smile tugging at his cracked lips. His usually combed blonde hair was messy and untidy, and his battle tunic bore several tears and stains. He came up next to Noble 6, blue eyes scanning the ruined landscape.

"The land is devastated," he whispered, baritone voice laced with grief. "I never thought this place would fall."

"Why are you still here?" Noble 6 demanded, still a bit surprised by his arrival. "You and your apprentice were supposed to go on the _Autumn_."

"Didn't think I'd be one to leave a fight now, did you?" he replied playfully.

"I'm serious."

Zilon sighed, crouching down to the dry earth, sifting a palm through the thin layer of sand.

"One should not die alone, Spartan. Not even you." He explained, not looking up from the earth. "I left Arvena on the ship. I trust that Keyes will take care of her. "

Noble 6 grew silent.

The rushing winds blew past their feet, swirling up sand and debris about them. A parched tree rustled faintly, desiccated leaves falling to the ground. Suddenly, the familiar humming whir of a Covenant dropship signaled the arrival of enemies. Zilon looked up to the dreary sky and curled a lip in distaste.

"Spirit," he growled, gripping the lightsaber attached to his belt.

The duo raced towards a set of buildings, taking cover behind a rickety lean-to. The Jedi gently moved over a dead Marine and peered over the fence.

Five Grunts and an Elite Major were searching through some earthy dunes, barking and grunting.

"It seems we have some uninvited guests," Zilon commented, eyes locked onto the aliens. "Shall we give them the proper greeting?"

Noble 6 flipped off the safety on his MA37.

"Hell, yes."

**+1:37:045**

Noble 6 emptied his clip into the hapless Grunt, earning a string of desperate, dying screams. When the diminutive alien finally went still, the SPARTAN-III lifted his rifle, searching for more tangos.

Nothing, yet.

He sprinted up the stairs, coming to a raised platform ringed with steel railings and turrets.

Zilon looked up from where he was slumping, pale face drawn back in pain.

"Took care of them for me, Six?" he said, voice weak.

"Stay still," the Spartan ordered, spraying a can of bio-foam onto the wound. The Jedi gasped, feeling the cold substance seep into his body. The pain lessened, and he stood up unsteadily on both his legs.

"I thank you, friend. For this and for killing the Elite bastard that shot me."

"You're welcome." Noble 6 responded, grinning underneath his helmet.

Six exhaled and sat beside his friend, head down. Lightning flashed in the sky again, and Noble 6 wondered if they'd make it out alive.

"What's it like?" the Spartan inquired. "Where you're from, I mean."

"Naboo?" Zilon said. "Ah, it is beautiful. Magnificent lakes, with water so clear and shimmering that the next thing you knew you were swimming in it. Plains and forests rich with nature and clean air. The capital is grandiose. Gleaming spires and viridian domes dominate the city. Oh, if I were there now."

"Sounds like a neat place," Noble whispered.

Zilon nodded in affirmation.

Soon, the sounds of dropships reached their ears, and all traces of amusement left their countenances. Zilon looked to the Spartan, who was already changing the magazine on his rifle.

"Shall we?"

**+30:054**

"Wot, wot, wot!"

Noble 6 sidestepped the charging Elite and slammed his weapon down hard onto the alien's domed cranium. The Elite yelped and fell to the ground, dead. The Spartan risked a glance to see how Zilon was doing. The skilled Jedi was twirling like a dancer, emerald saber swirling in elegant arcs. Two Elites fell to his blade, then another. Zilon stopped his dance and Force-Rushed a fleeing Jackal, beheading him on the spot.

A plasma shot flickered Noble-6's shields, and the Spartan saw dozens of more Covenant running to them. Zilon finished off a Grunt and rushed to his friend's side.

"They must be sending hundreds," he breathed, chest heaving with exertion.

"The more the merrier." Noble replied.

They leapt into the fray, the Spartan's gun blazing.

It felt like hours as they fought. He stopped counting his kills at twenty-three, seeing that it would distract him. Zilon was zooming like a devil, saber carving enemies to pieces.

Noble 6 felt something as hot as the sun slam into his back. He cried in pain and fell to the blood-stained ground. Turning from where he lay, the injured Spartan saw two Hunters running to them, one with a heated cannon. He screamed in defiance and fired his MA37, successfully hitting one in the vulnerable area between the helmet and breastplate. The massive alien cried and fell, dead. His partner roared in fury and sprinted to the fallen Spartan.

"DIE!"

Zilon appeared out of nowhere, lightsaber beating the Hunter back with hard, repetitive strokes. The alien roared and swung its invulnerable shield. Zilon ducked and lunged, stabbing the Hunter in the naked mid-section.

But not before it raised its fuel rod cannon and fired.

Noble 6 tried to scream out a warning, but it was too late. The Jedi was blown back, landing right beside Noble on the ground. Steam rose from his gigantic wound, and his tunic was literally burned to bits. Zilon coughed up a glob of blood, and he looked at the Spartan.

"It has been good fighting alongside you, comrade." he rasped sadly, the spark of life already leaving his pale eyes.

"Right back at you, friend." he answered, voice weakening. "I didn't think I'd die like this."

"You?" Zilon said, as if amazed. "Dead? That will not happen."

"What are you talking about-?"

"I saw one of the Elites land a Banshee not far from here," Zilon explained, standing up shakily. The Covenant horde drew back in surprise. "You should be able to make it."

"Zilon, don't do this."

The Jedi master turned back to him, sad smile etched into his face, and etched into Noble 6's memory.

"I am already doing it."

Noble 6 felt an invisible force slam into him, pushing him back dozens of yards away. He ricocheted off a rocky dune and hit a familiar purple ship.

A Banshee.

Six cursed and looked back to the fray.

Zilon was laughing, once more evolving into a graceful dancer as he cut down bewildered enemies.

"Come at me, Covenant!" he challenged, face set with cold determination. "Face the wrath of a Jedi Master!"

Zilon seemed to lock gazes with the far-off Spartan.

"_Go,_" he mouthed.

Then the horde removed him from sight.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

As he flew the Banshee to safe territory, Noble 6 replayed the image of the dying Jedi in his head. His sad smile, booming laughter, and his cherished sacrifice. As he sulked inside the aircraft, something disrupted his COM. Something somewhat rhythmic. Six or seven beeps that replayed continuously through the COM. Little did Noble 6 know, those tunes meant,

"_Oly Oly oxen free…_"


End file.
